Under the Obligate HemiParasitic
by piccolina789
Summary: A Secret Santa gift exchange at the lab makes for laughs, holiday spirit and a little embarrassment. Oh, and some GSR cuteness. Challenge story for CSIFO. GSR. Merry Christmas!


**A/N:** Every time there's a challenge posted at CSI Forever Online (dot webpaint dot com), I sit there, stare at the screen, can't think of anything, and tell myself, maybe I'll skip this one. I don't really have the time to be writing anything right now, anyway. Right?

Aaaand then, when I least expect it, I do get an idea and it won't freakin' leave me alone, no matter how much shopping there's still left to do, or how much there is to get done at work. So here we are. I don't think it's amazing, but I hope it'll make you smile!

Challenge rules were - 1) In Secret Santa, either Sara gets Grissom or Grissom gets Sara. 2) Someone must say "ho, ho, ho" and 3) Mistletoe (otherwise known as an obligate hemi-parasitic plant)must be involved. I set this story during season seven, when G&S are together, but nobody knows.

Merry Christmas!

* * *

><p>"It's that time of year!" Greg trilled, strolling into the break room with a hat in hand.<p>

"When nobody lets Hodges play in any of their reindeer games?" Nick joked, pouring himself a steaming cup of coffee.

He caught Sara's eye and they both grinned.

"Hey, there are some uncanny parallels between me and Rudolph," Hodges put in from the doorway.

"Your shiny nose?" Sara guessed as Nick lost himself in uncontrollable laughter.

"We like to laugh and call you names?" Nick added, breathless.

"_No_," Hodges said, off-put. "I'm thinking more along the lines of… the big man knows I'm the one to count on in a pinch. _Go down in history_?"

Sara and Nick snorted into their mugs as Catherine and Grissom joined the group around the table.

"Did we decide to do this again?" she asked, glancing at Greg's hat full of paper slips. "I didn't think it would live another year."

"Last year _was _a bit of a disaster," Greg admitted. "But only because _somebody_ went around trying to find out who _everybody_ had and ruined the surprise…"

Hodges cleared his throat.

"…but this year will be better," Greg finished. "Promise."

"What are the rules?" Grissom sighed.

Greg's face lit up.

"You're in?"

"I'm trying to be more open-minded."

His eyes flickered towards Sara, who suppressed her grin, but Greg was too excited to notice.

"Okay," Greg replied enthusiastically. "Rules. You choose one name – no switching, and _no_ telling any one who you have. Under any circumstances. There's a fifty-dollar spending limit. Wrap your presents and put them on the table here on Christmas Eve. That's it!"

"All right, all right, let's pick the names," Catherine said.

"Wait there," Greg said. "Let me round up the rest of 'em."

He returned minutes later with Warrick, Henry, Wendy, Mandy, Archie, Brass, Doc Robbins and David, about half of them looking slightly disgruntled to be pulled away from their work. Greg re-explained the rules, and with child-like excitement, began to pass around the hat of names.

Halfway around the table, Sara stuck her hand into the hat and took it away with a slip of paper in hand. Cupping it with her hand, she snuck a peek at the name on it. Nick.

She passed the hat to Wendy, and by the time it reached Grissom, there was only one slip left in the hat. She watched him carefully, hoping to glimpse a clue at who he pulled. He was surprisingly coy.

Greg's ceremonious presentation was cut short by a double murder across town, and the group split from the break room back to their jobs.

"Sara!"

Hodges voice came from behind her, and she paused, closing her eyes briefly before turning around. He hustled over to her and bent close.

"Who did you get?"

"Did you hear Greg's rules?" she asked sarcastically. "Or remember last year?"

"I'm not asking everyone, just you," he said. "Oh, come on, spill the beans."

"No."

"Fine, but I'm telling who I got—"

"No, you're not."

Sara cut him short and escaped into the locker room, where Grissom was packing his kit.

"Hi," he said, barely glancing up. "You're with me. We better move fast."

They packed their things into Grissom's Denali and started towards their scene.

"So?" Sara prompted.

"So what?"

"Whose name did you pull?"

Grissom clutched his chest, acting shocked.

"You think I would break Greg's golden rules?"

"Tell me," Sara said, nudging him in his extremely ticklish gut. "Please?"

She pulled her lips into a pout and Grissom chuckled.

"You know, usually that face can get me to do anything," he said. "But I'm sticking to my guns on this one."

Sara laughed.

"Fine," she said. "But if you think you can get away with sharing a bed with me for the next twenty-three days and not spill, think again."

Grissom only peeked over his sunglasses and winked.

* * *

><p>Grissom blew out a long, slow breath.<p>

"I can do this," he muttered. "How hard can it be?"

He pushed open the door to the shop, the bell above jingling softly. Floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall, row upon row of lingerie in every shape and color stood before him.

"I can _not _do this."

He turned to walk right back out the shop, but a redheaded woman with jingling bracelets got to him first.

"Hello!" she trilled. "What can I help you with?"

"Oh – uh, no – n-nothing," he stammered. "I think I have the wrong address."

"Or maybe not," she winked, reaching down and grabbing his wrist. "You made a right turn somewhere – we're the largest lingerie shop on the strip!"

They passed by a display with the dummy modeling a teddy lined with furry white fuzz. He gulped.

"So tell me about her!" the woman went on excitedly. "What does she look like, what does she like to wear?..."

"Oh – we don't usually, I mean, I've never bought something like… this… before," he said.

The woman nodded, staring at him with bright eyes.

"Um, she's… tall," he continued, uncertain. "She's got… long, long legs. Dark hair, fair skin…"

"She sounds lovely," the woman encouraged. "Are you buying for her, or you?"

"W-what?"

The woman laughed.

"I mean, are you looking to buy something _she'll _like, or something _you'll _like?" she clarified. "That sometimes makes a difference!"

"Oh," he said. "Maybe, um, something we'll both like?"

As the woman led him around the shop, Grissom felt himself growing warmer and warmer. There were gangs of women sneaking glances at him from behind displays and shelves. He was barely listening to the woman ramble on about cup sizes and sheerness and lace and satin. He wanted to grab the nearest item, hope it was Sara's size, and get out of there. But when she paused in front of a table full of a black, sort of corseted number, with subtle lace, and none of the ridiculous ribbons or straps or buckles Sara would hate, he had to pause.

"Oh, this is one of our most popular items," she smiled. "Looks great on any body type, and the black is very flattering. Do you think she'd like this one?"

He picked up the delicate material and ran his fingers across it. It was understatedly beautiful and sexy all at the same time. Just like her.

"I'll take it."

* * *

><p>Christmas Eve usually meant a slow night in the Las Vegas lab. Most of the Secret Santa participants had the night off, but, in good faith, came in for the scheduled gift exchange.<p>

All throughout the day, presents were snuck onto the table in the break room, names typed or written in disguised handwriting on the tags and stickers.

"Right," Greg said, grinning and rubbing his hands together. "Let the games begin! Nick?"

Nick, decked out in a red sweatshirt and a baseball hat that read 'Kall me Kringle", groaned.

"I don't see why I have to be the designated present distributor," he said. "This is your brainchild."

"Uh, hello?" Greg said. "Jolly old Saint _Nick_?"

Nick rolled his eyes and picked up the first package.

"Wendy," he read, passing it to her.

"Where's the enthusiasm?" Greg teased. "Where's the jolly?"

"Wait – we open the presents here?" Grissom asked.

"Yes," Greg said slowly.

"Well – then… won't everyone know who had them?" he stammered.

"That's kind of the purpose at this point," Greg laughed. "We all open, and then guess who bought it!"

Grissom cleared his throat and looked down quickly, his cheeks flushing deeply and looking horribly uncomfortable.

"Carry on, Saint Nick," Greg said.

"Ho, ho, ho," Nick said in his deepest, jolliest voice. "This one's for a good little girl named Catherine!"

Nick finished passing out the wrapped gifts with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, and Greg dictated that the best way to proceed was to go around the table. Catherine pulled the tissue paper out of a paper bag and unearthed a gift card to her favorite salon, a lavender scented candle and a package of bath salts.

"Wow," she murmured, sniffing the salts. "This was very thoughtful."

"Take a guess!" Greg exclaimed. "Guess who bought it!"

Catherine rolled her eyes.

"Greg?"

"Nope!"

"Nick? Warrick?" she continued. "Come on, it's gotta be one of you. No one else knows how much I love this spa!"

"It was me," Hodges cut in. "I was your Secret Santa!"  
>The table fell quiet with awe.<p>

"What?" Hodges said defensively. "I can be thoughtful."

"Thanks, Hodges," Catherine giggled. "I love it."

Wendy nearly fainted when she got a collector's edition "Astro Quest" poster from Henry. Brass was astounded to know David remembered his favorite brand of whiskey. When it was Grissom's turn, he unwrapped the carefully taped paper to find an autographed copy of an entomology book and a rare first edition of a Charles Dickens novel.

"Who was able to find this?" Grissom asked, opening the latter book with intrigue.

"Me," Greg admitted.

Grissom looked impressed.

"Thanks, Greg," he said sincerely. "I suppose that makes me glad I agreed to do this."

They continued around the table. Nick unwrapped a rather heavy box and pulled out a case of his favorite beer, a slew of DVDs he had wanted to see, and a sweatshirt from a little school called Harvard.

"Who could this possibly _be_?" he mocked. "Thank you, Sara Sidle."

"You're welcome," Sara replied. "You've only been asking for that sweatshirt for about three years."

Nick winked at her.

"Your turn."

Sara grinned and pulled the ends of a gold ribbon, untying the bow that adorned her Secret Santa gift. Matching gold tissue paper was folded inside, and she gently pushed it away. Her cheeks flushed crimson, and her mouth dropped a little. Across the table, Grissom gulped.

"What is it, Sara?" Wendy prompted.

"I… it's a…"

Greg leaned over and peeked into the box before Sara was able to tug it away. His eyes widened.

"No _way_."

"_What_?" Mandy jumped in.

Sara swallowed and lifted the sheer material from the box by the straps. Catherine giggled before catching herself and covering her mouth. Hodges cleared his throat. Brass and Doc Robbins looked like they wished there was somewhere else they needed to be.

Hodges glanced around the table. With only Archie's present left unopened, most of the Secret Santas had been spoken for.

"It's either from Warrick," he said slowly, doing the math. "…or Grissom."

Sara's mouth hung open, unable to make the words come out.

"It was me," Warrick said quickly. All heads turned in his direction, and Grissom's eyes widened. "Sorry, Sar, it's a joke gift. I have your real one in my locker. Just… wanted to make you blush… I guess?"

Catherine's, Mandy's and Wendy's eyes remained round as Sara let out a nervous laugh.

"Charm is your middle name," she said, her face and chest still flushed. "Thanks, I guess?"

Archie unwrapped his gift from "Grissom" quickly, and the discarded wrapping paper and boxes were gathered and thrown away as, one by one, they thanked their Santas and got back to work. Greg lingered in the doorway, looking pointedly at Sara's closed box, then looking up at her with raised eyebrows. The flush that had only just began to fade from her cheeks came back in full.

"What?"

"Nothing," Greg said quickly. "Nothing, nothing."

He left, and Sara closed her eyes briefly, holding her hand to her chest and letting out a deep sigh. She heard the door open and close.

"Hi."

She looked up to see Grissom.

"Hi," she breathed.

They paused, both sets of eyes falling to rest on the closed box between them. Sara fought hard to keep a smirk from her face.

"What were you thinking?" she said softly.

"I-I'm sorry," Grissom whispered as she started to giggle. "I didn't know we opened them in front of _everyone _– we didn't do that last year – and when I got your name, I just thought I'd – why are you _laughing_?"

"I'm sorry," Sara breathed, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry. That was so embarrassing, but it's so damn funny!"

Grissom felt a smile creeping onto his own face.

"I owe Warrick big time," he grinned. "You think no decomps for the rest of his career would do the trick?"

Sara shook her head, leaning against the table for support and clutching her side.

"Try that plus a Christmas bonus and a shiny new car," she said. "What were you _thinking_?"

She looked at him, her eyes wet with tears from laughing so hard. They stared at each other, smiling, until Grissom took a few steps forward and closed the space between them. Sara stopped laughing at once, her breath catching in her throat at his proximity.

"So, uh, what did you think, anyway?" he asked in a low voice. "Of your gift?"

"I think… it's absolutely beautiful," she replied slowly, huskily. "And there's only one person I'd like to wear it for."

Their eyes locked.

"You know," Grissom began. "There was another part of your present you didn't notice in your rush."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mmm," Grissom murmured.

He reached for the unwrapped box, ruffling through the tissue paper and pushing aside the black garment. He extracted a strand of mistletoe, holding it between them. Sara pursed her lips teasingly, and took the mistletoe from him.

"Hmm," she hummed, pretending to examine it. "An obligate hemi-parasitic plant."

Grissom stepped closer, slipping one hand underneath her leather jacket, and letting the other find the small of her back.

"I love when you talk science."

She chuckled throatily, stopping short when she felt the pressure of Grissom's lips against hers. He stole her breath for several moments, and when he pulled away, looking into her eyes, the mistletoe was pressed between their chests.

From the hall, Greg sipped his Styrofoam cup of coffee, shaking his head and grinning.

"I _knew _it wasn't Warrick."


End file.
